Full-on fist fight on the train this morning.. at Nanaimo station.

Two Chinese women, one 50-55, one 25-30. The train is packed and headed downtown in the morning. As we pull up to the station the older lady pushes past the younger one to get to the door. The younger one, having been forcefully displaced, pushes back to get to her spot.

Then IT WAS ON! The older one drops the gloves and goes full out screaming, yelling and swinging at the back of the younger one. The young one turns around and lets fly with a few good thumb-in-fist shots to the head/face. This prompts retaliation from the shorter older one who gives a war cry and releases a whirlwind of strikes to the top of the other's head.

Having had enough, the younger one delivers another shot to the face and, in a moment of inspiration, pushes the older one backwards out the doors as they start to close. Doors close and we're off.. for a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

A few people standing nearby during this tried to break it up, but only received whirlwind punches to the top of the head from both sides as a result.

Sometimes you just know there is going to be entertainment on the skytrain ride home. 40s, mullet, small fish-like tattoo on bicep, somewhat trimmed mustache, semi-cool-in-a-hippy-kind-of-way square glasses, black leather vest, faded jeans and old cowboy boots. Normally someone like that wouldn't raise any expectations, however today he was drunk, pushing a mountain bike and was getting onto the train at rush-hour. I mean, that's like seeing Chris Rock spill coffee on Chris Tucker.. you KNOW something funny is about to happen.

Mountain bike man gets on the train, and settles his bike against the doors on the opposite side of the train that he got on from. This is the first sign, as those are the main doors for the next four stations. The second sign was that when the train started to move, he wasn't holding on to anything, so he kind of fell forward and conked his head on the Plexiglas barrier protecting the innocent seated riders to either side of the doors. This did not seem to phase him in the slightest.

Train pulls up to the next station, which is underground and is the heaviest in terms of boarding traffic. As the train starts to stop at the station, he loses his balance and falls down, bike in hand. He stands back up, rights his bike, train stops, he falls down. At this point I'm not sure whether I should feel bad for him, or laugh at him. So I did a combination of both. He gets up and picks up his bike and turns it so that it is lengthwise from door to door, so people can get on the train. Once people have boarded, he puts the bike back so that it is blocking the main door.

The train starts forward again, but this time he is prepared and grabs for the pole, only to miss and fall down. He speaks! "whash all thish then?". Oh goodness.. it's Ozzie's long lost roadie.

Next station he managed to stay upright by leaning heavily on the Plexiglas barrier. He moves his bike to let people on, and the train is now so packed full that he can't move his bike back to the door. The train starts again and tries to keep himself upright by holding onto the bike, which pulls the three Aussie girls who got on at the station and had to stand next to him VERY close to him (not to mention getting tire dirt all over one of them). This is okay, because as it would turn out, they are also drunk.

This leads to some sort of top alcohol fueled conversation about them not being able to understand anything he's saying, and how he thinks they should go to "Whooshla" (Whistler, BC).

Things are somewhat calm for the next few stations as the crowd is so tightly packed by this time that Mr. bike can't fall over, but not for lack of trying. Things do, however, pick up when his cell phone rings. In a mad rush to find the phone, a station arrives and he goes down hard with a hand in either pocket. He comes up with two phones, which explains a little the confused look he then gave his two hands, trying to figure out which phone was actually ringing. Priceless.

The conversation went something along the lines of (In an extremely slow British slur): "ya, it's me. I'm on the skytrain. (pause) The skytrain. (pause) the skytrain. (pause) the skytrain.." (Phone starts to ring again)(looks at both phones, and answers correct phone and puts it back to his ear). He says he'll call them back, fumbles with the other phone and manages to dial, get them and let them know that he's on the skytrain.

The train hits a wobble in the tracks and the climax of the trip happens. Not only, as it turns out, is he not holding on, but there are four other people around him that are also either not holding on, or are leaning on his bike, which he is somewhat holding up. Like a bunch of bowling pins, 4 of the 5 people bail into the nearest wall before regaining their balance.

(phone rings) (answer) (lots of cursing that I can't really understand other than F this and F that).

At this point I have to squeeze around the bike, stand next to him for a minute or so, and then get off the train at my stop.

Final note: Don't be an ass and try to run up the long flight of stairs, against traffic, to try and make a train that has just left, yelling at someone to hold the train for you. It's gone and trust me, I know where you would have been standing..

I saw a real pirate on the skytrain, heading home from work. He was clearly a real pirate. He had an eye patch, and a metal toothpick. He was also covered in what could only have been stolen booty. Each ear had three or four rings in it, his black shirt was torn from the many sword fights he had won, his arms were circled with twine to tie up his victims and his neck was adorned with at least 15 metal necklaces.

His one eye studied everyone on the train, imposing was his 4'9" frame as he tried to untangle one of the many chains around his wrist that had become tangled between a ring on his finger and the plethora of chains around his waste. Unwavering was his concentration as he adjusted the one of four or five padlocks hanging from his belt.

I was excited because I figured at any moment he would explode, kick someone's ass on the train, loot us all and then struggle to make his getaway under the collective weight of all that metal.

I was disappointed that the train arrived at my station before he had a chance to execute his attack. As I stepped off, I passed by him and he gave me a look - as he ran a hand through his greasy black pirate hair - that said, "arh".